


U-Bike and Blue skies

by wingingDreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A little angst, Beaches, Crack, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Love, M/M, Malfunctioning bike, Ridiculous, Romance, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, tropical island
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3931675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingingDreams/pseuds/wingingDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry Potter could really do without all the flashing cameras and his face, sulky and huge, appearing on the front page of the Daily Prophet, thank you very much. Hermione reads about a beautiful island named Formosa, and suggests Harry take his much-deserved vacation there. "Bloody brilliant idea, 'Mione!" Ron had cried, giving Hermione a winning smile (Only because he was feeling guilty; he'd fed Crookshanks chocolate yesterday). </p><p>Draco has just completed nine months of his community service sentence, and he wants Out. He travels to the summery, tropical island, Formosa.</p><p>Something blooms, and it's more than just flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	U-Bike and Blue skies

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all its character belongs to J.K. Rowling
> 
> This first chapter is mostly about Draco, but please bear with it because he's such a sweetheart. It will get more exciting soon! :)

        It was a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Draco Malfoy was shattered glass pieced together with leftover duct tape. He was eighteen now, but had never felt more like a boy than he had on the day Lucius Malfoy was charged with a lifetime sentence in Azkaban under the entire, tight-lipped-cold-gaze Wizengamot. He had watched, mouth agape with abject horror, as his father gave him one last hard look and a tight-lipped grimace, as if saying, you’ll always be a Malfoy and don't you dare forget that. It hit Draco like an axe.

        This wasn't Lucius' first arrest, but if the Dark Lord’s spirit were to come back to London and help Draco’s father break out _again_ , hand-in-hand like Babbity Rabbity and its best friend Foxy Boxy, then Draco would undoubtedly eat his wand. Which, oh! Happened to be in Harry Sodding Potter’s possession at the moment. Totalis _merveilleux._

        Draco was nestled on a green silken family couch, idly flipping through the records of _Casualties at The Battle of Hogwarts_ in a nightshirt of rich sapphire blue. It should look old-fashioned and too aristocratic, but on Draco it was fitting and quite hot, if he dared say so himself. He'd seen the way Pansy stared back in Fifth year, and if that look didn't define lecherous, Draco didn't know what will.

        Draco’s eyes scanned through the page in half-daze. _Weasley, Tonks, Brown, Lupin…. Snape._ Draco loathed Snape hotly, because he obviously knew that Dumbledore’s side was going to be the winning side, and that’s why he had become Dumbledore’s right hand man. So _why_ hadn’t Snape done more to convince him, Draco, to change allegiance? (Of course, there was all the nonsense Potter spouted about Snape loving his mother, a mudblood, of all people, but obviously that couldn’t be the case). And Draco sometimes loved- no, wait a damn second, Malfoys didn’t _love_ \- Draco sometimes _didn’t-hate-that-much_ the man named Severus, who had cared for and protected him tirelessly, even while a little impatiently. He didn't know what to think or feel, nowadays.

     Draco has had words thrown at him like angry stones civilians used to throw at criminals in history. Death Eater, scum, wretch, trash, vermin, swine, stinker, whoreson _,_ and even a recently popularized term to describe ex-Voldemort supporters, “Malumtoad”, which Draco would’ve laughed himself silly to if he didn’t hear the term directed at him just about fifty times a day.

     Something so ridiculous said with hate was surprisingly amusing, but it never made Draco amused enough to laugh. He was sure if he tried to laugh, his throat would choke up and leave him gurgling because it had forgotten how to. He _really_ wished the occasional glimpse of Potter’s ridiculous flyaway hair on Witch Weekly would do the trick (He'd won the Best Smile award this year, which was _bloody_   _outrageous_ in Draco's opinion, because Potter's smile was always tinged with a little bit of awkwardness and embarrassment.  He didn't get why all the fan-girling witches found that cute, because it obviously wasn't. It really wasn't. Not at all. ( _It SO wasn't)._

     He curled into a miserable ball, thinking of Dumbledore's death and his father's listed crimes. He felt guilty and so, so, tired, and it was only Narcissa's company that kept him from breaking down. He'd never known to rebel against any teachings of the little boy's Hero, his father. But could you really blame him? _Maybe. Yeah._ Draco answered his own thoughts despairingly. And then as he hit his fourth year he had no choice, because with the Dark Lord it was always obedience, or torture. How he had lied to himself and pretended that he was  _proud_ to serve a madman was unthinkable. It was not fair, he often thinks with an ache, that so much could rest upon the mistakes of frightened teenager. He had not asked to be born into this family, he had not asked to serve the Dark Lord like his dog, he had not asked to hurt every innocent person he came into contact with.

     This didn't mean he liked muggles or Hufflepuffs, because he didn't. Or Gryffindors, for that matter.

     Having his ruddy ass saved by bloody Potter, of all people, was that bright red cherry on top of the melting, sagging, pathetic excuse of a cake that was his life so far. _Someone fat must have sat on that cake_ , Draco thought. But the image of Dolores Umbridge sitting on The Cake of His Life did sadly little to appease him.

     He had just completed the torturously slow nine months of community service (his verdict could have been so much worse, but thankfully Draco had been underage when he let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and Potter and his Hero Friends had testified for him at his trial, heaven knows why. They probably wanted to show off their kind souls, or brag in his face). 

      And less than a week later, Draco Malfoy was on a plane, flying to his randomly chosen destination of vacation. (Not  _so_ random, he just wanted somewhere far, far, away from Britain and judging eyes and memories).  _Because,_ he thought bitterly to himself,  _that’s what cowards do, isn’t it? Run away._

     But when a person is running away from something, what they don’t realize is that they’re running straight into something else. Or someone else, for that matter. Someone, who, at the moment, is packing in a right hurry and slipping out of Hogwarts quietly, to avoid fans and reporters chasing after him like a pack of starving wolves.

 


End file.
